


Beata Maria

by YeetTheAngels



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Priests, Confessional Sex, Hair-pulling, Light BDSM, M/M, Porn With Plot, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Restraints, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YeetTheAngels/pseuds/YeetTheAngels
Summary: From the moment Vil stepped into his church, Rook had known that this day was coming.(Rookvil, Priest AU, read the tags)
Relationships: Rook Hunt/Vil Schoenheit
Comments: 15
Kudos: 87





	Beata Maria

“Father Hunt, do you have a moment?” After sending away the last of his parish goers with a blessing, Rook turned to see one of the newcomers, Vil Schoenheit. “Oh, monsieur Vil. Is there anything I can help you with?” Vil shifted, unease flitting over his delicate features. “... may I… confess?” His voice came out as little more than a whisper, yet Rook heard it as if it was clear as day. “Of course, monsieur. Shall we move to the confessional? I’ll be free for the week as that was the last mass til Sunday.” He guided the other male to the confessional, looking as serene as always. Yet his thoughts told a different story.

From the moment Vil stepped into his church, Rook had known that this day was coming. Known that he too would be tempted by the forces of hell, to be swayed from God’s light as the scriptures had foretold. Just as how Vil smelled of fire and brimstone, Rook knew that Vil was here for his soul. He should have exorcised him, but somehow… he couldn’t. Vil was unlike any of the demons he had slain in the past. Maybe… just maybe, falling wouldn’t be so bad if it was Vil who would make him fall.

“Oh, Father Hunt... forgive me father, for I have...sinned.” Vil lingers on the last word for way longer than he should. “And how have you sinned, my dear.” Rook knows full well that the other is a demon, sent to tempt him into sin. Yet no matter what he does, he can't stay away from this gorgeous man. “Oh, recently I've been... ravaged with lust... for another man... I want his hands and mouth on me, to bend me over his knee and...punish me for my sins.” 

“Father Hunt... won't you please tell me....what the punishment for a sinner like me is?” Vil never meant to get invested like this. He thought it was going to be a routine tempting, to send this holy man into depravity. But that day, as he was listening to him give a sermon... that passionate gaze and fervour... Vil swallowed thickly as he palmed his steadily growing erection, back against the hard wood of the confessional box. He never thought he'd fall for a mortal so easily.

“My dear, all sinners can be saved. To know that you have sinned, and to seek out redemption is a good start.” Rook could have left the box at any time. He was only a few steps away from the basin full of holy water, a few steps away from saving his soul. Yet Vil was... different. A demon he may be, but he shined brighter than the most beautiful of angels. He shifted, biting his lip when the fabric of his robe brushed up against his mildly uncomfortable pants. He never thought he’d fall for a demon so easily.

“But father...what if I don't want to be saved? What if I.... I just want you?” Vil leans forward, sensing the lust welling up within the other man. He knows he is desirable, has tempted mortals and demons alike, surely it will not be hard to tempt this priest into sinning-

Suddenly, he is no longer able to sense anything from the other side. Vil's eyes widen. Did he... fail? A mere mortal was able to thwart his wiles? “...Father Hunt?” he calls out. There is no answer. Vil doesn't panic, as he is too refined for such things, but he allows himself to feel afraid for just a few moments. Just what had happened? Leaving the confessional box, Vil hurries to the priest’s side, finding the door slightly ajar. “Father Hunt, are you alright?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Even Vil’s superior demon reflexes couldn’t save him from being slammed into the wood, hands pulled behind his back roughly. Vil gasped for air at the sudden attack, struggling against the other’s iron grip. “F-father Hunt? What are you… “ he yelped as he felt shackles close around his wrists. Normally he would have been able to break out of them easily, but try as he might he couldn’t. Father Hunt must have blessed them, which meant… 

“... demon.” Rook growled into Vil’s ear, the sudden shift in his usual joyful tone sending a shiver down Vil’s spine. ”... you figured it out, huh? What gave it away?” Vil drops his act, revealing his true nature that had been lurking under the surface. “I was always able to smell your kind, demon. Now, how should I deal with you…” 

Vil put on a confident front, yet inside he was petrified. Trying to break the cuffs was futile, as Rook had a firm grip on him. Vil was well and truly trapped and at the priest’s mercy. “Then how will you deal with me… “ he tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation, yet he couldn’t resist the shudder that ran through him as Rook pulled his hair. “You’ve sinned so deeply… I suppose there’s only one thing to do.” Vil yelped as Rook manhandled him into position, so he was lying over Rook’s lap, hands still bound behind his back. “Twenty should do it.” Rook ran his hand down, tracing a line along Vil’s spine, stopping at the base. “T-twenty what?” Vil tried to look at what Rook was doing, but was stopped by the position he was in. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, yet the fog in his mind cleared away when he felt a sharp slap to his ass.

“Count for me, or I’ll have to start over.” Rook let his hand stay there, rubbing circles to disperse some of the pain. Vil shuddered, whether from the pain or the pleasure, he couldn’t tell. “O-one…“ he mumbled, hiding his face as best as he could. Although he knew that the second slap was coming, he still jolted at the sudden sensations. “Mmh...Two.” Vil bit his lip in anticipation for what was to come. Rook smiled darkly at Vil’s display of submission. “Good boy. Let’s continue, shall we?”

Eighteen more agonising slaps later, Vil is moaning shamelessly as he rutted against the other’s thigh. "Father Hunt, please..." he whined, hot tears nearly spilling from his eyes. "But isn't this what you wanted, hm? My hands and lips on you?" Rook hums noncommittally, leaning down to kiss Vil's nape. "More, please, give me... please, Father Hunt, I'll be good!" Vil breaks, begging shamelessly to be held and fucked by this mortal man. No one, mortal or demon had ever made him submit like this. 

He whines when Rook shifts their positions once again, making Vil straddle him. "T-this is..." he gasps as Rook pulls his pants down, freeing his cock, which had been hard and leaking since the first slap. "Such a shameless demon you are. Just how badly did you want me?" Rook nips at Vil's neck as he gropes the demon's ass, feeling the heat emitting from it. "So much, Father Hunt, I want you, please-" Vil's pleading cuts off as Rook's finger starts circling his hole. Demons could alter their body somewhat, thus Vil was already well lubricated, and Rook wasted no time in shoving two fingers in, scissoring and thrusting deep inside. Vil nearly screams when Rook's fingers brush against his prostate.

"There! Please, again- ahh!" He wants to wrap his arms around Rook, to touch him as he touches him now, yet the shackles stop him from achieving his goals. Rook smiles as he watches Vil come undone beneath him, face flushed and cock leaking a steady stream of precum. "Again? Don't you want me to fuck you? Do be patient, monsieur Vil." He chides him, reaching down to undo his own pants. Vil's eyes widen as Rook's cock comes into view. 

"..so big." he couldn't help but remark on the sheer size of it. Were all priests so well endowed? A sharp tug on his hair drew him back to the present, where Rook is grinding himself against Vil. "Tell me if you want to stop, monsieur Vil." Vil nearly rolls his eyes, but restrains himself from such an unseemly act. "Such a paragon of virtues, Father Hunt... But yes. Fuck me, please." 

As his body was breached, Vil gasped for air, feeling lightheaded and almost giddy with pleasure. He felt so full, like an hole in his very soul has been filled just from this carnal act. "If you want more, then you need to do it yourself." Rook grasped Vil’s waist to steady him as Vil nearly toppled over at his words. "You... you pervert." Vil blushed, trying to hide his face in his shoulder. Rook just smiled, his other hand entangled in Vil's hair. "Pot, kettle. Weren't you the one who wanted me first?"

Despite his earlier words, Rook did begin to move, each shift sending jolts of pleasure through Vil’s body. “Aah…” He felt almost numb with pleasure, and he wished so desperately to be freed from his shackles so he could leave scratches on Rook and mark him as his own, to sink his teeth into the toned flesh and mate with him- 

Wait, _mate?_ Vil realised with a sudden jolt, body shuddering as Rook thrusted into him. Oh, he had it bad. To call a human his mate, of all things… when he had sworn to never take one again… But Vil couldn’t deny it, not when each and every part of him was on fire like this, nerves sparking, each thrust bringing him closer and closer to his finish. When the member within him grazed his sweet spot, Vil was nearly pushed over the edge. Mewling, he wrapped his legs around Rook, trying to pull him closer. 

“B-beaute… Vil… “ Rook groaned, trying to restrain himself from finishing early. Vil really was a demon, for no angel could ever compare to his bewitching beauty. Rook hesitated for a brief second, then reached behind the other man, fumbling with the shackles for a bit before- 

Click. The shackles slid off, falling to the wooden floor of the confessional box. Vil looked at Rook incredulously over such an act. Any sane person would have killed Vil when he was weak and powerless, not release him. Then again, they _were_ fucking in a confessional… So Rook couldn’t have been all that sane.

Instead of burying his claws into Rook’s neck and tearing his jugular out, Vil surged forward to trap Rook in his arms, sharp claws still hidden away in favour of holding Rook closer to him. “I’m so close, fa- ah, Rook, please, I’m-” Vil didn’t know why he was so attracted to this mortal, nor why he felt so weak whenever he was around. All he felt was overwhelming pleasure, Rook’s comforting presence being the only thing keeping him grounded. 

“Then come for me, Vil.” Rook growled as he anchored his hand in Vil’s beautiful hair and _tugged._ The effect was instantaneous. Vil gasped, body responding to Rook’s command, his release spurting out and dirtying their shirts. The feeling of Vil tightening around him was too much, and Rook came inside with a muffled groan.

It took awhile for them to catch their breaths, even if Vil technically didn't need to breathe. He clung to Rook as the last dregs of his orgasm faded, and whined when Rook tried to dislodge him. “Vil, dear… I need to clean up.” Rook sighed when that just made Vil cling harder. “Please, Vil? It would be quite hard to explain to the parish goers what the stains in the confessional are.” “They can’t even see your side of the box…” Vil rolled his eyes, but he pulled away and stood up. Or rather, he tried to stand, yet his legs shook and he nearly collapsed to the floor if not for Rook’s reflexes.

“There, there…” Rook laughed, pulling Vil back onto his lap. “Release me!” Vil pouted, trying to twist out of Rook’s hug. “Nope, never! You’re stuck with me now, Vil.” Despite his protests, Vil smiled at Rook’s declaration. “Such a strange priest you are, Father Hunt. Are you not worried about eternal damnation?” He teased, flashing his sharp fangs at the priest. “I don’t mind eternal damnation if it means you’re the one doing the damning.” Rook pressed a gentle kiss to Vil’s forehead. “Now let me clean up, okay? You can come back later to tempt me into more sin.” Vil nodded, then dissipated into flames. 

Reappearing miles away in the mansion he had acquired a few centuries ago (it paid to have a base on the mortal plane), Vil landed on his bed, still a mess from his earlier love making session. Normally, he would have immediately went to fix his appearance, yet as he glanced at the mirrors and saw the bruises on his pale skin, the bite marks littering his neck- 

Maybe he should fix his appearance later. It would be a waste of energy to fix something that would be healed in a few hours, wouldn’t it? It had nothing to do with how those marks were left by Rook at all. Nope, not at all.

**Author's Note:**

> i literally have written nothing good during this break huh  
> i guess  
> twst halloween fucked me up  
> also now i stan rook more than i used to lol  
> follow me lol  
> https://twitter.com/AngelsYeet


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